Uncle Brian
by christikat
Summary: Written for 5th round of sickwilson fest on LJ, prompt 47. Warning for description of child abuse! Excerpt: "Suddenly the air seemed to be too thick to breathe and the room began to move. The walls were getting closer and closer, ..."


#47: House's new patient turns out to be a man who used to be friends with Wilson's father before he molested our boy wonder oncologist years before. When House forces Wilson to help him with the case when he realizes that the patient has cancer, Wilson still opts not to tell House, and pretend everything is fine. When the patient touches and/or says something to Wilson, he finally loses it and has a breakdown. Much love if this has House/Wilson established.

"**Uncle Brian"**

House was scowling at the whiteboard when Wilson entered the conference room. A vague smile settled on Thirteen's features, Taub and Foreman nodded towards the oncologist and Chase let out an obvious breath of relief. They were trying to get to the source of their new patient's illness but hadn't been successful so far. House was getting angry and lashed out at his fellow doctors. They all hoped for a little break upon Wilson's arrival.

Wilson took in all the subtle signs of the other doctor's body languages and sighed inwardly. On the outward he plastered a cheerful smile on his face, squeezing his partner's shoulder as he passed by. This was the most affectionate gesture they exchanged at their work place and in front of colleagues. House kept on snarling at his fellow doctors while Wilson filled his own mug with coffee and also House's red one. He carried them over to House and pressed the red mug into the diagnostician's hand, whispering, "Give them a break. Run your usual blood tests and see what happens."

Wilson still smiled at House when the very same shoot daggers at him. He cocked his head to one side and gently squeezed House's shoulder again. This action was out of sight of their colleagues and finally House pressed his lips together and nodded in understanding. He chased his fellow doctors out of the conference with the tasks of getting an even more detailed patient history and running blood tests.

Wilson took a sip of his coffee to hide the enormous grin that was forming on his face but the full display of his dimples gave him away. The corners of House's mouth twitched as he watched Wilson pretending not to look _that_ pleased with himself. He cleared his throat before he told Wilson in a casual voice, "The patient asked about you."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up questioningly, "About me? Dare I ask why?"

"He heard you getting paged and asked if your first name was James."

"Huh? Anything else? By the way, does this mean you already looked at him personally?"

"Nah, I just happened to pass by his room," House muttered. "I think he said something about having been friends with a man whose son was called James."

"It's not a very uncommon name, especially in combination with my surname," Wilson shrugged. Yet, he was curious and asked, "What's his name?"

"Do I look as if I'd remember all my patients' names?"

Wilson rolled his eyes while he put his coffee mug on the table. With an exasperated sigh he stared at House and waited. Eventually House caved and told him, "Brian Miller, age 69."

Suddenly the air seemed to be too thick to breathe and the room began to move. The walls were getting closer and closer, the light faded to a dim grey and the urge to run and hide was pestering. Wilson jumped when broad hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him lightly, cautiously. Through the fog of his panicked feelings he heard House rumble, "Wilson, hey Wilson. Get back to earth. Are you okay? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"No, no. I … just had an idea about what to make for dinner." Wilson blinked; even to his own ears this sounded lame and the word _liar_ seemed to be printed on his forehead in bold letters.

House frowned, then quirked an eyebrow questioningly. "That must be a scary dinner you're planning."

Wilson chuckled and did something they agreed on not doing at work. He encircled House around the waist, pressed himself against him and kissed him slowly, showing him how much he desired him. Relief washed through Wilson when House reciprocated the kiss. Relief over House not prodding further on but also relief for still wanting House even though the name Brian Miller had triggered memories he wished he could bury forever.

House was stroking his thumbs along Wilson's cheekbones while he drank in the sight of his friend's face. Wilson's eyes were closed and not for the first time House was mesmerized by those long eyelashes.

Someone cleared his throat which caused Wilson to sigh and drop his forehead against House's clavicle while House groaned loudly. He turned his head to get a better view at the unwelcome intruder and glared at a smiling Cuddy. She was completely unfazed by the display of annoyance on his face and said, "Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds but I was told that I could find James in here."

Reluctantly Wilson turned his head while House tightened the hold on his face. In pure annoyance House snarled, "What do you need him for? I'm sure I have a better use for him."

Wilson just rolled his eyes, then pried House's fingers away from his face. An amused smile settled on Cuddy's face as she watched her two department heads struggle. "Don't worry House. I want to set up a meeting to discuss the number of doctors he needs in oncology. James insists that he needs more staff."

"I do need more staff, especially more well-trained nurses. I told you that much already."

House smirked and finally let go of Wilson. His friend was already on his way over to Cuddy when he shouted, "You go tiger! Show her the ropes!"

It earned him a simultaneous groan from Cuddy and Wilson which was followed by a shake of their heads. House grinned smugly, then turned his attention back to the whiteboard.

XXXXX

Hours later House was twiddling his cane and pacing in front of the whiteboard. For the millionth time he stared at the symptoms that were scrawled on it: fatigue, anemia, abdominal pain, vomiting and fever.

He sighed and opened the balcony door; maybe some fresh air would help him clear his head. He hoped for Wilson to be outside on his balcony too and even saw light in his office. Unfortunately his friend was with a patient. Normally that wouldn't prevent House from harassing Wilson but something was different that day. The patient, an elder lady with her husband was weeping and Wilson looked as if he was about to lose his professionalism and join her.

"What the hell is going on?" House asked himself. He forgot about the scene when epiphany struck him. He slapped his hand against his forehead and hastily hobbled back into the conference room.

"Chase, get everything ready for a colonoscopy. Guy has colorectal cancer."

Chase shut the folder and stood up while Taub merely lifted his head. Foreman and Thirteen were still in the lab, running tests. "Okay," he answered. "Do you want me to take a biopsy as well?"

"No, I'll get Wilson to do that."

Chase frowned, then shrugged it off. He was long used to House's behavior and didn't question it further on. House stuck his head out of his conference door right at the moment when the old couple left Wilson's office. Wilson's whole body language spoke of exhaustion and tiredness and House almost felt bad for going to him, demanding, "I need you to do a biopsy on my patient. You know, the one that believes he knows you personally. Come on!"

House was pushing the bell of the elevator when he discovered that Wilson wasn't standing beside him. He turned around with a curious look on his face. Wilson was staring into space and also didn't react to House's call. House limped back, glowering as he did so. "Are you having an epiphany about dessert?"

Wilson's eyes focused and he forced a thin-lipped smile on his face. He shook his head, cleared his throat and hoped for his voice to stay even. "No. Get someone else to do the biopsy. I'm going to finish my papers and then I'll head home."

Even if Wilson would have wanted to do the biopsy he was in no condition to do so. His hands were trembling while his heart thumped wildly in his ribcage. House was getting suspicious which translated into nothing good for Wilson.

"What's up with you? You've been strange ever since I told you about my patient," House queried.

"Nothing is wrong with me. House, I'm exhausted and you … you don't need _me_ to do a biopsy."

"You're lying to me," House stated.

The accusation hung in the air, causing Wilson's heart to thump even more irregularly than before. He swallowed against the thick lump in his throat and stuffed his still trembling hands into the pockets of his pants. Seconds later Wilson had to avert his eyes, he simply couldn't bear to look at his partner right then. House closed the remaining distance but didn't touch him. Confusion and hurt was evident in his voice when he said, "I don't understand why you're lying to me and I sure as hell don't like it. You're aware that I'll try to disclose your secret, aren't you?"

Wilson lifted his head up and gave a curt nod. "I know but it's … it's nothing. Or more precisely it has nothing to do with you and me."

"How very comforting to know," House scoffed. He scrutinized Wilson for a while but this time his friend kept up eye contact. Still annoyed House groused, "Okay, I'll get Chase do the colonoscopy and take the biopsy but I want _you_ to look at the sample."

"Alright, I can do that," Wilson replied while thinking that he was willing to do whatever as long as he didn't have to meet Brian Miller, formerly known to him as Uncle Brian, in person.

House turned around but added casually, "You know, for some reason I'm under the impression that you're afraid to meet this guy. Which sounds odd to me since he proclaimed having been friends with your father." He paused and glanced back over his shoulder to see a very pale Wilson gazing at him, then continued, "I'll page you when the biopsy is done. We're going to meet in the lab."

House didn't wait for a reaction. He went to the elevator and puzzled about Wilson's weird behavior. Something was off; he couldn't remember having seen Wilson this shaken since Amber's death. As he rode the elevator and then watched Chase do the colonoscopy he observed his patient closely. His observation didn't help him to understand Wilson's obvious fear which was starting to grate on his nerves.

When the biopsy was done he paged Wilson to come down to the lab. They arrived almost at the same time but didn't speak a single word. Wilson's whole body looked tense and his eyes flickered around nervously. House sat there dumbfounded as he discovered that Wilson's hands were trembling. It was almost imperceptible so that he thought he had imagined it at first. The longer he concentrated on Wilson's hands the more he saw the fine tremors rippling through those beautiful slender hands.

House kept his mouth shut, waiting for Wilson to tell him what was wrong. While he waited he made a plan, though he felt queasy about it. He took in the sight of his friend, acting all professional though the stress was showing if you know what signs you had to look for. Wilson's laugh lines were standing out but not in a flattering way as usual. House watched the tense shoulders tensing up even more when Wilson found what he had searched for.

House felt a sharp stab of pain when Wilson planted his hands on the table surface and breathed out heavily. His friend licked over his lips, then stuffed his twitching and trembling fingers into the pockets of his lab coat. He swallowed, then turned to House and said, "Congratulations, you were right. It's colorectal cancer."

"Of course I was right. Now, come on, boy wonder, take a look at your newest patient!"

Wilson paled visibly. If there wasn't something wrong House would have laughed about Wilson's whiny complaint of, "What? No way! I'm heading home now."

He headed for the door but stopped next to House and asked, "You're coming with me or not?"

Hastily House estimated the time he needed to get his plan to work, then answered, "I'll come with you. Give me half an hour?"

"What do you need half an hour for? You don't need half an hour to pack your stuff," Wilson replied with obvious suspicion in his voice.

"No, I don't need that much time but you on the other hand will make a quick stop at the oncology station anyway and that'll last _at least_ half an hour."

Wilson gave a lopsided smile to acknowledge House's words before he left the lab. As soon as Wilson was out of sight House retrieved his cell and made a call.

XXXXX

Wilson went to the oncology ward and started to do his round but had to leave after ten minutes due to an urgent page to the clinic. Suspicion and an unsettling feeling of a dawning catastrophe took hold of him when he found out that no one in the clinic seemed to have paged him. He tried to shake this feeling off and scolded himself for even feeling this way.

Back in the oncology ward he picked up the folder from the nurses' station and walked into the room of Mr. Alan Conelly. At least it had been the room of said Mr. Conelly only hours earlier. Wilson dropped the folder when he became aware that Brian Miller was gaping at him. He was frozen to the spot, breathing harshly and inwardly screaming that this wasn't really happening.

Confusion turned into anger – only House could have set this up! His anger waned as quickly as it came when Brian Miller spoke to him, "Hey Jimmy, my boy. That's you, isn't it? I kept an eye on you for a while after I went away so that I'd be able to recognize you if I ever was stumbling upon you somewhere. Don't you want to say 'Hello' to old Uncle Brian?"

Wilson wanted nothing more than to leg it but his escape route was cut off by House who had entered the room after him. "Yeah, Wilson, why don't you say 'Hello' to your uncle?"

Wilson felt tears of disgust welling up in his eyes. He didn't want to speak to Brian Miller, nor did he want to be in the same room with him. He _really_ didn't want to go near this man and shake his outstretched hand. Bile rose up within him as he saw the man that had left scars on his soul smile at him encouragingly. Yet, he couldn't stand there rooted to the spot because House was making this impossible. He only needed to pretend that everything was fine so that House's curiosity was fulfilled. Tentatively he made a step towards the man on the bed, chanting inwardly, "I can do it. I can do it. I can do it."

He was getting more and more numb as he closed the distance and his voice cracked when he replied, "Hello Brian."

"_Uncle_ Brian, boy," the white-haired man admonished him. Wilson cringed as he remembered far too well what happened if _Uncle Brian_ used this tone. Grey eyes pierced him, daring him to obey to the unspoken threat.

Wilson wiped off his sweaty palms on his pants, then corrected himself, "Hello, Uncle Brian."

House frowned while he watched the scene on display. Wilson's last line had almost been an inaudible whisper. It also held a note of utter fear and despair. House shuffled his feet nervously while concern and guilt blossomed within him.

"I believe you were raised to be polite and shake a hand if it is offered as a greeting," Brian Miller suggested in a clipped tone that sent shivers up and down Wilson's spine. He stared at the outstretched hand and was suddenly catapulted backwards to a time 35 years ago.

XXXXX

_Jimmy had liked Uncle Brian in the beginning – very much actually. Since he was 4 and a half years old his parents had less and less time for him. His older brother Andrew, who was almost 6 years older than he, was a notorious troublemaker. Danny was a small and ailing infant who needed a lot of attention. There was simply no time left for him._

_He loved that Uncle Brian took only him out to the playground, to the zoo or just played with him for hours. He didn't question it when he ended up sitting on Uncle Brian's lap more often than he liked. He also didn't question why Uncle Brian always needed to touch or kiss him nor did he wonder why he always had to take a bath before Uncle Brian brought him back home. He did know though that this behavior was somehow not appropriate, not right._

_He began to fear seeing Uncle Brian after his first overnight stay at his uncle's house. It wasn't right to sleep in his uncle's arms, naked and sticky with a fluid he didn't even know the name of. It also wasn't right that his uncle was touching him everywhere nor was it right that Jimmy had to touch his uncle everywhere either._

_He didn't understand the secrecy but soon he understood that he had done something wrong. He was a bad boy and only his uncle wanted to spend time with him anymore. Even his uncle saw the badness and became more stern, more demanding and sometimes angry with him. He hurt Jimmy so much then that he cried, whimpered and promised to be a good boy afterwards._

_This went on for over a year. His parents didn't understand why their poster boy James had turned into a frightened and clingy kid. They were annoyed by his behavior and happy whenever Brian Miller suggested taking care of him. Jimmy had already given up begging his parents for the permission to stay at home when his secret finally got out._

_It had been a rainy afternoon and for an unknown reason Uncle Brian had gotten angry with him. That of course had evolved into a hurtful situation for Jimmy. While he was held by Uncle Brian and bawled his eyes out, the door had been opened a tad. Jimmy would never forget the look on Andrew's face. He would forever be grateful for his ten year old brother to see through what was happening immediately. Uncle Brian had still finished his task but since Andrew had hidden himself he wasn't aware of the presence of another person. Uncle Brian had told Jimmy to stay put while he was going to take a shower and usually Jimmy would obey without hesitation. That time his brother snuck into the room, wrapped his little brother in the blanket and quietly carried him out of the room._

_They didn't speak a single word. Andrew simply sat Jimmy on his bike and drove them home in a breathtaking tempo. Andrew carried his little brother into the house and told his parents what he just had witnessed._

_Jimmy didn't go to Uncle Brian afterwards; it was as if Brian Miller had never existed. His parents never got him help nor did they really comfort him when he had nightmares. They only wanted him to forget everything so that they all could go on with their lives. Jimmy would have gone insane if his brother hadn't been there. They never talked about the incident either but Andrew made sure that everyone knew that he watched over his little brother closely, very closely._

XXXXX

It had taken Wilson years to accept that he was attracted to men and then to act on it. After Amber's death and his return to PPTH House had surprised him one day by kissing him and telling him that he was done pretending they were only friends. Wilson had never regretted his decision and during their first sexual encounters he had always blamed his "homosexual virginity" for his trembling body. To his surprise and relief he liked the physical aspect of their relationship but there were a few things he wouldn't do. Fortunately House had accepted the fact that anal sex was completely out of the question for Wilson. He had also accepted that Wilson couldn't give a blowjob without gagging and looking sick afterwards. After the third attempt he had shrugged, tousled Wilson's hair affectionately and told him, "We're not doing this if it makes you _that_ uncomfortable. I'm okay with whatever you're willing to offer."

House couldn't know how much this comment had meant for Wilson then.

Wilson was pulled out of his memories and thoughts when Brian Miller's hand closed around his own, griping it firmly. He watched a smirk appearing on the old man's face while his body went numb. A pitiful whimper escaped his mouth when Brian pulled strongly to force him into getting closer. He wasn't aware that he was crying silently, pleading to _Uncle Brian_ to let go off him.

Wilson jumped when a hand was laid on his shoulders. Forcefully he shook of the hands that were holding him and hastily scuttled backwards until his back hit the wall. House followed him, his heart beating painfully fast, and heard Wilson sob one line over and over again. "Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me."

Tentatively House reached out while he spoke in a soft, soothing voice, "Wilson. James, it's me. I won't hurt you."

Still carefully he cupped Wilson's face in his palms and coerced his friend into looking at him. Wilson's face was wet from the streams of tears, his eyes red-rimmed and still brimming with unshed tears.

House didn't want Wilson to be _that _hurt nor did he want to feel the guilt of being responsible for putting Wilson in this situation. Softly, yet firmly he said, "James, I'm taking you home now. Mr. Miller will get transferred to another hospital. Do you understand this?"

Wilson nodded while his chest heaved up and down jerkily. He glanced over to Brian Miller who scowled at him. The old man made a show of lifting up his hand, imitating a slap. Wilson flinched and his eyes went wide in fear. He remembered this hand doing unimaginable things to his little body 35 years ago. He lost himself in painful memories, leaving House to stare at him while Wilson slid down the wall. He ended up sitting on the floor, knees drawn up under his chin, hugging himself and rocking back and forth while his crying grew louder.

House watched his friend helplessly, listening to his voice getting hoarse. Sympathy and confusion turned into anger when he discovered the disgusted look on Brian Miller's face. "What _exactly_ did you do to him?"

The old man was unfazed when he answered, "Me? I didn't do anything. Little Jimmy thought it was fun to seduce me. Some people are sluts even when they are kids, huh?"

House felt as if he'd been punched in the face. His gaze flickered from the old man to Wilson and back again. He swallowed hard before he asked his next question, "How old was he?"

"Young, maybe five. Such a cute little boy. No one would have thought that such a sweet child could be such a devil."

"A devil?" House croaked. His head was spinning and his stomach was revolting.

"What would _you_ call a five year old who's out to seduce a 34 year old man?"

"Abused," House whispered. He turned to the trembling form of his lover on the floor and when he was sure he had his attention he suggested, "I could up the dosage of his meds. No one would question the cause of his death."

House tuned out the spluttered remark of Brian Miller; his eyes were solely focused on Wilson. Before Wilson was able to answer a nurse rushed into the room. Obviously _Uncle Brian_ had felt threatened by House and pushed the call button. Wilson shook his head as an answer and allowed House to help him up from the floor. The nurse was shocked at seeing her department head in such a devastated condition.

To spare Wilson more humiliation House said, "Dr. Wilson got bad news from his family. Please keep this private and oh, get the papers of … _Mr. Miller_. He wants to get transferred to Mercy."

The nurse rushed out of the room to get the papers while House wiped away the tears from Wilson's face. He guided him out of Brian Miller's room, then poked his head back into it. "By the way, you didn't ruin him. He's still capable to love and he is loved too. Something you'll never experience."

House wished he could beat this guy until he was begging and screaming but wasn't sure if he could stop himself from killing him. He hovered close to Wilson as the very same signed the papers in a shaky handwriting. Softly House said, "Let's get you home."

XXXXX

Back in the apartment Wilson retreated to the bathroom to take a hot shower. It took him a long time because he rubbed the skin of his hand where _Uncle Brian_ had touched him until it was red and raw. Meanwhile House paced in the living-room, not knowing what to do. He wanted to barge into the bathroom and ask Wilson what was taking him so long but he feared to act inappropriate. He gave a relieved sigh when Wilson emerged from the bathroom, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt.

They stared at each other in awkward silence until House broke it. "Do you … want to eat something?"

"I'm not hungry." Hesitantly Wilson added, "Don't you want to ask me a zillion questions? Can we get the interrogation part done quickly? I'm really tired."

House was baffled and speechless at first. When he spoke again his voice sounded strange, "If I got the right impression this uncle of yours abused you sexually when you were five years old."

"Are you disgusted by me now? I'd understand if you need time to … to think about, um, us."

House blinked, then blurted, "Are you _insane_? This guy abused you! It doesn't change how I feel about you. Oh, wait, scratch that. It does change how I feel about you." At seeing the panicked look on Wilson's face he hastily continued, "I do feel more protective of you. Now, come here to me."

House spread his arms in invitation when a thought struck him. _What if James didn't want to be near him? What if churning up those memories caused him to feel differently about them? What if …_

Suddenly House felt old and exhausted. "Do you _want _to come to me?"

Wilson gnawed on his lower lip before he nodded curtly. Wearily he approached House and asked with a hint of despair in his voice, "You don't think I'm a bad person, do you?"

"No, James, I never thought that."

"What if … I did seduce him? What if I have always been this manipulative? You called me a manipulative bitch yourself."

"I used it as a kind of endearment. You did _not _seduce him. You were _five_ years old, for heaven's sake!" House was breathing harshly when he asked his next question, "Have you ever been in therapy because of this?"

Wilson averted his eyes which was answer enough for House. Cautiously he laid his hands on Wilson's shoulders and felt his friend tremble underneath his touch. In a gentle voice he suggested, "You should consider it. But for now, how about a hug?"

Wilson lifted up his head and gave a small smile before he closed the remaining distance between them. His head came to a rest on House's clavicle and heavy shivers ran through his body. House held him tightly while he told him, "If I _ever_ make you uncomfortable you have to tell me immediately."

Wilson chuckled and House groaned. He was glad to hear this sound from Wilson but it was also important for him to get his message across. He clarified, "I meant if I make you uncomfortable in a physical way."

He felt Wilson swallow and tightening his embrace. "I will." After a short pause he added hesitantly, "Maybe … maybe you could stop pestering me with your idea of cuffing my wrists to the headboard?"

Waves of nausea surged through House's body as he thought of all the demands he had spoken. Suddenly he understood Wilson's reservations and the guilt was causing him to get teary-eyed. His imagination was running wild when he asked in a choked voice, "Did _he_ do that?"

"Cuffing my wrists? No, he simply held me down. I wasn't a very good fighter even as a boy."

Anger won the upper hand within House. Anger that someone had hurt Wilson deeply, that someone had stolen his childish innocence in such a cruel way. Even more anger breached the surface at the thought that Wilson blamed himself for it happening. It demanded a great deal of patience of him to not shake his friend, to not yell at him about the utter crap he was telling. Instead House kept his voice even when he said, "You couldn't have fought him off. He was a grown man and you only a small child. Don't put the blame on you. He's the one to blame for everything, not you."

"Do you _really_ think that or is it just to soothe me?"

House lost the fight against the tears when he gazed into those beloved brown eyes. Confusion was written all over Wilson's face when he discovered the wet trails on House's face. Irritated he queried, "House? Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"Geez, Jimmy! I'm not okay and you're not okay either. I wished you had never experienced something like this and I feel bad about all the times I tried to get what I wanted. That must have been horrible for you."

Wilson shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "You never hurt me. That I was fairly sure you love me and were simply horny like hell, helped too."

The lopsided smile on Wilson's face must have been the most beautiful smile House had ever seen. Carefully he cupped Wilson's face in his hands and kissed him. He watched Wilson's eyes flutter shut and decided that he was going to do everything in his powers to help his friend find some kind of peace.

END


End file.
